


The Things We Lost

by softjack



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Concussions, First Kiss, Getting Together, Homophobia, Jack Zimmermann gets a dog, Jack Zimmermann's Overdose, M/M, Mutual Pining, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softjack/pseuds/softjack
Summary: Jack loses hockey to a concussion. Handling it is harder than he thought.





	The Things We Lost

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** One of them dealing with an injury that will likely end their hockey career, What will they do now, how does it hit them.

Jack can distract himself for short periods of time before something reminds him again. Sometimes it comes at him so fast and so hard that it turns into sheer panic before it even hits him. And while he never expected it to be easy, he also didn’t expected it to be this quiet. The silence appears overwhelming at times and he can't stop himself from letting it.

The gym helps most days. He’ll go down there early enough for no one else to be around and push himself as far as he can go without reaching a breaking point. Today he’s down there a little later than usual though because Shitty visited for the weekend and didn’t leave until 10 a.m., so there a few other residents who’re down there too. It’s not something he’s used to, so it definitely makes him feel a little out of place and stressed, but he manages to ignore it most of the time.

Towards the end of his workout though he goes to grabs his towel from the bench to wipe some sweat off his forehead. He can feel his heart pounding in his ears and takes a few seconds to drink some water before sitting down. He’s got another thirty minutes or so before he’ll call it quits and head up to stretch, but rushing it for the last hour has gotten him more tired out than usual. He can feel the tension stretching out over his shoulders and he rolls them a bit to loosen up.

As he’s about to stand up again, his phone goes off in his bag. Three times, actually. And when he pulls it out there are three messages from Eric, all short and confusing.

**From Bittle**

_Are you home? I’m in the lobby_

**From Bittle**

_I need a kitchen!_

**From Bittle**

_Not for baking, I promise!!_

 

After going up the elevator to the first floor he sees Eric standing by the front desk. There’s a baking dish in his hands messily covered in foil and a tote bag of groceries is hanging off his writs. He’s talking to Albert who’s probably at the beginning of his shift, moving his hands just enough that Jack can tell that he wants to gesture something. Albert, distracted and amused, looks like he’s almost forgotten that he’s supposed to keep track of everyone entering the building.

Jack walks up to them after a few seconds of staring and puts a hand on Eric’s shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks and Eric stops whatever he was telling Albert.

“Oh, the oven broke again,” he says and lifts the baking dish a bit as to show where he’s going with it. “My parents are getting here in a few hours so I need to use yours.”

“I thought you got rid of it last time.”

“No, but I’m buying a new one if it happens again, I swear to god. Nursey said Dex would come fix it when he gets off work but that's not soon enough.”

“Well… come on then, let’s head up.” Jack nods towards the elevator and starts walking.

“I’ll see you later, Al.”

Eric gives the old man a wave at waist length and follows Jack towards the elevator. They’re quickly joined by a woman who lives one floor below Jack and who’s carrying lunch and a bag from the corner store. He mostly recognizes her from the times she’s complained to Albert about the people living right next to Jack whose dog starts barking at night sometimes.  _How can they even sleep_ , she’d say or, _I don’t get why they don’t have a no pets policy in such a nice place, at least for the loud ones._

She seems a little confused about the two of them; Eric with his food and Jack fresh out of the gym. And he has to admit they’re an odd pair at the moment, but she gets off without a word and they reach the top floor a few seconds later. Jack lets out the breath he’s been holding.

“Are they flying up from Georgia?” he asks and starts searching for the keys in his backpack. Eric sighs and shakes his head.

“No, they were visiting Aunt Mary in Minnesota all week. They were supposed to visit her in April but then Uncle Carl got sick and they all had to go to Alabama instead. Then she complained that they hadn’t gotten to see her new house yet so they had to go there and probably thought two birds one stone. You know how it is,” he explains and waits patiently as Jack struggles to unlock the door. His hands have been shaking ever since he got off the treadmill but Eric doesn’t comment on it.

“How long are they staying then?”

Jack opens the door and they step inside. Eric immediately heads to the kitchen after removing his shoes and rambles on again about how he’s not completely sure because they’re flying back in a week but also wanted to go to New York for a day or two to watch some play his mom had been excited about since forever and while they’re there they might as well have dinner with some college friends and maybe visit a museum or two. And Jack knows how it is.

“You seem stressed,” Jack tells him and leans against the door frame. Eric is crouched down in front of the oven with one hand on the buttons and the other keeping the baking dish steady on his knee.

“I could say the same about you.” Eric turns his head just enough to show Jack he’s smiling and then goes back to working on the oven settings.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Do you?”

He doesn’t. And Eric has enough to deal with anyway. Jack’s complaints on top of it won’t do him any good.

“Let me know if you need anything else then.”

He leaves Eric in the kitchen after one last concerned look and goes into the living room instead. There he moves his coffee table to the side, leaving enough space to roll out the yoga mat he grabbed from the hallway closet, and just sits there for a minute or two before he grabs his left foot with both hands and starts counting down the minute. There is a mix of breathing exercises and stretching that he usually does at the gym but he’s glad Eric gave him an excuse to get out of there.

In the background he can hear the radio, the chopping, the pots and the pans. Eric is singing along softly and it keeps Jack company for another fifteen minutes or so of stretching before one thing after another stops making any sounds. The only thing that’s still there when Eric walks into the living room is the radio.  

“Do you need anything?” Jack asks over his shoulder without stopping. _Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven_.

“I’m coming out to them tonight, that’s why I don’t know when they’re leaving,” Eric says. “I don’t think they’ll take it very well though.”

Jack immediately breaks the stretch and runs a hand through his hair. Eric sounds so sure of himself, like he accepted it long ago and has since managed to make a fact out of it, but that doesn’t change the heavy outcome. Jack then turns around and his heart breaks at the tears in Eric’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, that’s- shit, I hope you’re wrong.”

“I hope so too.”

 

-

 

They don’t take it well and leave for New York before they’ve even finished dinner. Jack gets why Eric didn’t need the oven for baking.

 

-

 

“How are you feeling today?” Matilda asks and picks up her notes.

“Fine,” Jack says, but then clarifies what it means, “The same.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“Well, it’s not making progress is it?”

The word, _progress_ , ties around his tongue like barbed wire and then tightens every time he opens his mouth about it. Most days he’s not even sure he knows what it means. Matilda keeps telling him it’s different for everyone, that his way of dealing with things deserves to take its own time, but he still remembers what progress felt like all those years ago and this isn’t it.

“Depends,” she says. “How do you feel compared to how you did in June?”

“Less… all over the place, I guess,” he admits. “I don’t feel any better about it, it’s just more organized.”

She hums as she makes some notes and gives him time to elaborate if he feels like it. He stops looking out the window and focuses on all her diplomas on the wall instead. She must’ve spent years on them, if not a lifetime.

“Did you wanna be a therapist when you grew up?” he asks and turns his head to her. She stops what she’s doing with her notepad and frowns at him. “Like when you were four.”

“No, I wanted to train horses. My parents had a farm until I was ten.” She smiles like the thought is a happy one and waits to see where he’s going with it.

“I can’t remember not playing hockey. Imagine if you’d trained horses your whole life and one day you found out that it could kill you if you didn’t stop.” He can’t look away from her as he says it and has to watch her realize that she probably has no idea what he’s going through. Psychologically she might, she deals with _progress_ every day, but where there might not be a lack of sympathy there’s definitely a lack of understanding.

“What are your options, though?” she ends up asking him. “Because you can’t change what happened, Jack. No one can.”

“I should be asking you that,” he chuckles, like it’s ironic of her to be trying to push him, even though it’s what she’s supposed to do. “It’s been a few months now and I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“It’s been a few months since it happened, but it’s only been a few weeks since you actually decided to retire.” She puts her notebook down and leans forward a bit. “And you were the one who decided it. I know it might seem cruel to remind you about that, but in a few months I think you’ll prefer to have made the decision yourself.”

He doesn’t know if she’s right about that one but he nods. He didn’t really have much of a choice, if you ask him. In the back of his mind he thinks he might’ve even known the second he hit the ice that it wasn’t going to be like all the other times. He was already seeing the consequences of the other concussions, so that last one, harder and nastier than he’d ever experienced before, was the final straw.

There were a month or two of consulting different doctors, discussing it with the team, talking to the staff involved, but everyone knew that it wasn’t looking good for him. Some people were more optimistic about it, saying it’s not impossible for him to come back - just risky, but seeing his mom’s reaction when he told her he was considering it was enough to make a decision for him. _I’m not losing you again, not to hockey_ , she’d said. His dad had been quiet.

“What are you most worried about then? That you won’t be able to find something to do, or that you won’t be able to handle doing something else?” Matilda asks him after he’s been quiet for a moment.

He thinks about it for a while, _really_ ponders the two options, and then decides,

“I can’t tell the difference.”

 

-

 

“Do you come here often?” Eric asks him and tucks his hands in between his thighs. They’ve only been sitting on the bench for a minute or two, not looking at each other even once. Jack turns his head to him and smiles.

“You hitting on me, Bittle?”

“Very funny,” Eric says and slaps his arm. Jack just laughs and moves closer to him. “It just seems like you’re torturing yourself by coming here.”

“I like it, it gets things off my chest even if I’m alone. Besides, I know I’ll be playing again, just not in the NHL. ”

Eric seems to accept that and reaches over to grab Jack’s hand off his knee. They’re both cold from not bringing any gloves and Jack’s hand is a bit too big for them to properly fit together, but it works. Eric leans against him too and rests his head on Jack’s shoulder.

“I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

“That’s rare these days.” Jack tries to make it playful by laughing afterwards, but Eric looks awfully sad at the fact.

“No one’s disappointed in you, Jack. I think most people are pretty darn relieved that you decided not risk your life like that. They’re just worried you don’t know how to handle it.”

“Well, they’re spot on with that one.”

Off to their left it sounds like someone is coming in and Eric immediately drops Jack’s hand and moves over. Jack opens his mouth to say something. Maybe tell him not to, that it doesn’t matter who sees anymore, that Jack just wants to keep holding him. But all he does is close the space between their thighs again. No one ends up coming in anyway.

Eric looks off to the side to make sure they’re alone and then takes a deep breath.

“I was the one who asked them to leave.”

“What?” Jack frowns at him.

“When I told them, they said it’s okay but it’s probably for the best if I don’t tell anyone else, especially down in Georgia, and I… asked them to leave.”

“Bits-“

“I mean, I get it- or I _know_ why they said it but it’s not enough anymore. If that would’ve been their reaction when I was fifteen I would’ve been jumping with joy but I have so many people who treat me better than that these days.”

They sit quietly for a while, staring out across the ice. Jack doesn’t really know _what_ to say or _how_ to say it but occasionally it scares him how it feels so familiar and close to home when Eric talks about how he grew up. Jack’s always considered himself lucky with how his parents raised him, with the values he’s grown up to have, though it hits him sometimes that maybe he was just too young to realize how much some things hurt.

“I came out to my parents when I was fifteen,” he starts. “I just told them I liked boys, _too_ , but I didn’t actually know what that meant. I just thought they’d be able to tell me.”

He doesn’t really feel a lot of comfort sitting here when talking about it. It’s a game that he’s loved for so long but he wonders what would’ve happened if maybe his mom had pulled him out of it when she saw he was struggling or if his dad hadn’t pushed him so hard those first couple of years.

“My dad just started talking about how we had to make sure it didn’t get out, asking me who knew, which, no one because I was fifteen and fucking terrified and in my eyes they were the only people who’d ever been there for me. My mom asked him if he was serious though and then yelled at him when he tried defending himself.”

_“He’s your son, Bobby. What’s wrong with you?”_

_“We can’t let it get out though. Do you know what that would do to his career? Down the drain. Do you think that’s what he wants?”_

_“You haven’t even asked him what he wants; you’re just spitting out bullshit. Do you know what that’s doing to **him**? He’s fifteen years old for fuck’s sake.”_

 

“My dad left for a week and when he got back he never brought it up again until after the overdose, not even when Kent came around more. I’m still surprised they never get a divorce because mom was so angry after that. She’d blamed herself entirely for not being there when I was growing up, but I think she blamed my dad when I almost died.”

“Jack, that’s- I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Don’t be, that’s not what I mean. I guess I just wanted to say I kind of know what it's like. And it’s not gonna be easy but you also did the right thing. You shouldn’t let them treat you like they’re ashamed.”

Eric buries his face in Jack’s shoulder and holds onto his arm so tight Jack thinks he might even be panicking. But then he leans even closer to Jack’s neck and gently kisses it, mumbling something that sounds a lot like ‘I love you’ even though Jack can’t let himself hope.

“And Bittle?” he adds.

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you too.”

 

-

 

“How’re you feeling today?”

Jack continues the tapping against his leg in a steady beat. _Some people just aren’t made to handle failure_ , he thinks to himself. No one in his family has had to start over twice quite like he has, so there was never anyone around to teach him how to. His parents had their issues back in the day; too much money too quickly, company they shouldn’t have been in, things they regret doing. But Jack just took one too many hits doing something he loves.

“A bit torn,” he settles on eventually. “I’m so lucky. I got a second chance, at hockey and at life, and I’m still here complaining about how that’s not enough.”

“I wouldn’t call it complaining,” Matilda says and smiles at him the same way she always does when she disagrees with him. “You’re here because you’re not feeling okay and I think you have to stop feeling guilty about that. Getting help like this is never selfish or greedy.”

Jack rubs his tired eyes and hopes he can stay away from crying this time. His hand then falls onto his lap and he sighs.

“I guess.” He starts playing with the hem of his t-shirt. It still smells like Eric after he borrowed it last time he came over, soaked from the rain. Jack hadn’t bothered washing it afterwards.

“Can I give you some homework? Until next time?”

“Sure.”

She licks her lips and leans forward before saying, “Make a list of things you want or wanna do. It doesn’t have to be long or detailed, maybe five or six things, but it can’t be hockey. And afterwards try to tick off at least one.”

 

-

 

  1. _A dog._
  2. _Call my dad more._
  3. _A deck of UNO. I haven’t played it in years._
  4. _Call my mom more._
  5. _Bittle._



-

 

« Jack, hi, come on in! »

Marty steps to the side and holds the door open. Jack can hear plenty of people around the house already but he’s also early so he assumes there are more to come. Marty doesn’t seem at all bothered though and just offers the usual; can I take your coat? Do you want something to drink?

« Some water would be nice, » Jack says but takes care of the coat himself.

« Coming right up! » Marty walks into the kitchen and Jack follows. It’s still pretty much spotless, just like the last time when he was over for dinner, but with a bunch of hockey players coming to hang out he can’t expect it to stay like that for long. « It’s great to see you again. It’s been a while. »

« Yeah, sorry, I’ve been a bit busy, » he lies.

« Us retired folk have to stick together, kiddo. » Marty laughs like he doesn’t think Jack cries about it a couple of times a day and pours him a glass of ice cold lemon water. Jack takes it when it’s offered to him and drinks it so he isn’t expected to smile.

« Aren’t you busy with the kids most days though? » Jack then points out. Marty posts about them on Instagram more than ever now that Gabby has started traveling for work and he gets to take care of them on his own. This get-together is probably the first time in a while that he has the house to himself.

« Definitely, but they miss you even more than I do. » Marty leans against the counter and takes a swig from his beer. He looks almost younger right now than he did when Jack first met him. He’s clean-shaven and relaxed in a way you can’t be during hockey season.

« I’ll come by some time. Charlie would probably like it too. »

« Oh, right, you got yourself a dog! »

Jack nods and pulls his phone out of his back pocket to show Marty his screensaver. Charlie is three years old and a mix of a German Sheppard and Border Collie. As messy as a puppy and with the energy of all of Marty’s kids combined. He also has Jack going for a run in the mornings instead of down to the gym so Jack sees it as a good decision.

« I don’t know if it would be a blessing or a curse bringing him around. The kids would be begging for one. »

Jack laughs and puts his phone back. He’s about to chirp him about it too, reminding him that he’s wanted to get a dog for years but Gabby’s the one who’s refused, when Tater comes into the kitchen and immediately pulls him into a hug. Jack almost spills water all over the both of them but manages to hold it steady until Tater’s pulled back again.

“How you been, Jack?”

“Good. “ Jack smiles. “How’s Dallas been treating you?”

“Good, good. Team is great,” Tater tells him and grabs two beers from the counter. “Lucy doesn’t like it though. Says it too far.”

“I can imagine. She’s only got a year left of school though, right?”

Asking about Lucy sets Tater off about her degree and then some other story about how much went wrong the last time she came to visit him. As he’s talking he also manages to pull Jack into the living room where everyone who’s already there greets him with different levels of excitement. There are a few that he doesn’t even know now, some rookies and teammates he never had, but none of them seem bothered to have him there.

After that he sticks to listening to Tater and some of the other guys for as long as he can and doesn’t drink more than a few glasses of water. Some people offer to get him a beer, or if he’d prefer something else there’s plenty in the basement, but he hasn’t had any alcohol in months. He’s terrified that it’ll become a habit if he does, it runs in the family after all. No one comments on it or tries to ask him why, but it’s pretty obvious that they’re reaching their own conclusions.

Marty orders pizza around 7 p.m. and chirps everyone who’s still playing about how this is what retirement looks like. _Right, Jack?_ And Jack wants to argue that it’s not, that they’ve got nothing to be jealous of, but he just raises his glass and laughs along.  Then Dandy who’s also from Dallas tells them about being traded at the same time as Tater, and Snowy talks about the charity work the team is doing, and Marty discusses coaching with Bill and Cory who played for the Habs but have also recently retired. And Jack doesn’t really have anything other than his dog to share so he sits at the end of one of the couches and picks at his own skin until it turns red.

At 8.30 he says he can’t leave Charlie alone much longer even though Eric has been watching him all night. Marty pretends to believe him. Jack pretends to be sorry about it.

 

-

 

“How’re you feeling today then?”

Matilda crosses her legs and adjusts the sleeves on her sweater. It’s colder outside again and Jack expects snow any day now. He hopes it can make things a little easier for him and serve as something nostalgic, but he can’t say for sure.

“I think,” he starts, “I need a change.”

“And what made you think that?”

“Other than the obvious?”

She chuckles and nods. Jack just shrugs and sighs.

“I’m tired of not handling it well, I guess. I’ve been stuck in this loop for a while and seeing how happy Marty and some of the other retired guys are makes me wanna try harder.”

She writes it down as he speaks and hums in agreement. He can never tell if it’s a good thing or not when she has to take notes but he wants to think she sees it as moving in the right direction.

“What would you say is the first step then?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he admits. He’s been fighting his retirement ever since it happened and embracing it is going to be like heading down a new path. It means he has no idea where he’s going or how to make it there.

“Have you talked to your college friends about it?”

“Not really.” He says, confused. “Why?”

“Well, most of them stopped playing hockey, right? And some of them had been playing their whole lives. I’m not saying it’s the same thing but I think that’s easier to relate to than your old teammates or friends who retired at forty.”

It sounds easy when she says it and in simple words there’s almost always a simple conclusion. Down in the details he knows his situation isn’t as common as someone who quit hockey after college though. Some of them were invested, for sure, and there were a lot of bittersweet endings at every graduation he’s been to since his own, but he doesn’t have the aftermath already planned out. He just got thrown into finding something else to do.

“You don’t seem agree,” she says.

“No.” He feels guilty about it. “They all have something to do. They didn’t quit hockey just to sit around doing nothing. They all went and got degrees or started working or whatever they could find. Most of them knew for years that college was it for them. I got checked on the ice one day and suddenly it’s all over.”

He can feel himself starting to cry about it while at the same time there’s so much anger. He’s been doing better lately, he knows he is, but going back to this feels like going back in the process. She just hands him the tissues as usual and moves on though, because that’s what she wants him to do too.

“Then maybe finding something to do should be the first step,” she says.

He figures she’s right.

 

-

 

**To Lardo**

_Can you help me out?_

**From Lardo**

_At 1.30 in the morning? Sure, what’s up?_

****

**To Lardo**

_Sorry. Couldn’t sleep. I need to make a website._

****

**From Lardo**

_I’ll be over in thirty if you have coffee and snacks_.

 

**To Lardo**

_Thanks, Lards. I owe you one._

 

-

 

“Charlie! Get back here!”

Jack watches as he runs down the park path, completely ignoring him. He’s usually very aware of Jack and stays close by when they’re around a lot of other people, but now Eric is walking towards them and Charlie loses all of that to his own excitement. Eric just laughs and goes down on one knee to greet him, which has Charlie immediately throwing himself on the ground to be petted.

Jack lifts his camera and aims it at them. He even manages to take a few pictures before Eric looks up at him and notices. He doesn’t seem to mind the camera at all though, only giving Jack a smile and then standing up.

“Come on, baby,” he says to Charlie and walks towards Jack again. Charlie follows while also pressing up against his legs all the way there. “You look relaxed.”

“Really?” Jack says and leans back so he’s resting all his weight on his hands. It’s a very forced pose, but it makes Eric laugh.

“Yeah, but I guess you’re in your natural habitat out here in the snow. I feel like my butt would fall off in a second if I sat down.”

Jack chuckles and lets the camera hang around his neck so he can stand up.

“Not used to the cold yet, eh?” he chirps him.

“Excuse me, Mr Zimmermann, but I am plenty used to it. I just won’t sit outside in the snow for hours to take pictures of it, thank you very much.”

Jack shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his bag off the ground before also grabbing Eric’s hand and pulling him along. Eric, a little bit surprised but definitely glowing, stumbles a bit over his own feet at first but quickly gets into the same pace.

“Did you get any good pictures then?” he asks and leans into Jack.

“I did. I think I’m gonna post some of them later too,” Jack admits carefully.

“Really? Jack, that’s amazing.” Eric stops them both to look up at him, even happier than before. He might be even more excited than Jack himself actually. “Where’re you gonna post them?”

“Lardo helped me set up a website a few weeks ago, I just haven’t gotten around to using it. Hers have been doing really well lately though, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

“That sounds great, honey. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks. I mean, I don’t really know where I wanna go with it yet, but it’s a start, I guess.” Jack shrugs and looks off at Charlie who’s found a stick and is waiting for them further down the path.

“It’s definitely a start.”

 

-

 

“How’re you feeling today then? Over the phone you said you wanted to tell me something.” Matilda looks intrigued rather than worried, so he probably sounded excited enough over the phone when he called to see if she could fit him in.

He takes a deep breath or two to try to calm down, but it doesn't seem to help these days. The excitement is a good feeling, don’t get him wrong, but it also makes him nervous.

“I might’ve started seeing someone,” he says. “Not officially or anything. We haven’t really talked about it yet, but it’s uh… it’s great.”

Matilda immediately brightens up and Jack can’t help but smile too at how it feels like a small victory between the two of them.

“Who’s the lucky person?” She smiles like she already knows the answer and suddenly he feels a bit shy about it. “Eric?”

Jack nods and looks down at his hands. He can feel his cheeks heating up, probably bright red at this point, but he can’t help himself. He’s happy. Or at least happier.

“I know I’m not okay yet, but I feel like I’m letting myself have something for once.”

“You deserve to be happy, Jack. I know you struggle believing it, but you can ask anyone who knows you even the slightest bit and they’ll tell you the same thing. And if Eric makes you happy then it's good to focus on that.”

Hearing her say it calms him down tremendously. Because he didn’t just call her to talk about how happy is, _and_ _god damn it he’s happy,_ he called her because when things make him happy nowadays they also make him more anxious. Losing hockey, the only thing that had never really let him down, made him realize there are other things he risks losing too if he doesn’t step it up and work on keeping them.

“I think the hardest thing to deal with has been that I don’t feel like the same person anymore,” he admits to her then. He’s barely even admitted it to himself yet but he’s got nothing to lose. “And I’ve been trying to go back to who I was, but that’s never gonna happen. I wasn’t the same after the overdose either and that wasn’t a bad thing, so I guess I need to accept that I’m not gonna be the same after all of this too.”

She takes a few seconds to think about what he's said and then starts to look almost proud in a way. He could be mistaking it for relief though.

“Can I tell you a little secret?” she asks and he just nods. “No one’s ever the same.”

 

 

-

 

 

Jack pulls up next to Eric’s apartment building and puts the car in park. They’re both still laughing from Eric trying to imitate Holster’s terrible attempt at a British accent and Jack can’t tell if it’s the late night or the sugar rush, but it’s ten times funnier with Eric’s southern accent on top of it all.

“Well, this was definitely quite an evening,” Eric says and unbuckles his seat belt. Jack hums and stares at the place on Eric's jaw where the street light hits the hardest.

“I had fun,” he tells him without looking away from it. Eric notices and touches the spot briefly as if to see if Jack was aware of what he’s doing. He definitely is.

“Me too.”

Jack reaches over and puts his hand on Eric’s thigh. They still haven’t really talked about this much, but he doesn’t know if they have to anymore. Just letting it happen has worked out for them so far and sometimes he kind of wishes they’d done it years ago, before both of them struggled with life even more than before. But this is good too. This might be better even.

When he looks up again Eric is staring right at him. Intensely.  

“What?” Jack asks and Eric gives him a little shrug like he always does when there are too many things he wants to say. And there are too many things Jack wants to say too, but he figured he’d save them for a rainier day.

“You just make me so happy, you know? I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re just… one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

And he looks so honest that Jack has to kiss him. Kiss him softly, a little harder, and then _once, twice, three times._ Over and over again and then eventually laughing into it at how they’ve been wanting this for so long but never made it happen. Eric is laughing too, just maybe not as widely, and grabs a hold of Jack’s hand that’s still on his thigh.

“We’re gonna be just fine,” Jack says. “I’ve got your back, yeah?”

“I don’t doubt if for second, honey.”

And Jack thinks about June of 2019, thinks of Eric in this moment, thinks progress.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
>  
> 
> Come reblog this work and view others from this fest [HERE](https://omgcpheartbreakfest.tumblr.com/) on the omgcpheartbreakfest tumblr page!


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